Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare
Act 2 - Scene 4
Another part of the forest.
Demetrius : So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak,
[p]Who 'twas that cut thy
tongue and ravish'd thee.
Chiron : Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so,
[p]An if thy stumps will
let thee play the scribe.
Demetrius : See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl.
Chiron : Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands.
Demetrius : She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash;
[p]And so let's leave
her to her silent walks.
Chiron : An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself.
Demetrius : If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord.
Marcus Andronicus : Who is this? my niece, that flies away so fast!
[p]Cousin, a word;
where is your husband?
[p]If I do dream, would all my wealth would
wake me!
[p]If I do wake, some planet strike me down,
[p]That I may
slumber in eternal sleep!
[p]Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle
hands
[p]Have lopp'd and hew'd and made thy body bare
[p]Of her two
branches, those sweet ornaments,
[p]Whose circling shadows kings have
sought to sleep in,
[p]And might not gain so great a happiness
[p]As
have thy love? Why dost not speak to me?
[p]Alas, a crimson river of
warm blood,
[p]Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,
[p]Doth
rise and fall between thy rosed lips,
[p]Coming and going with thy
honey breath.
[p]But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee,
[p]And,
lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue.
[p]Ah, now thou turn'st
away thy face for shame!
[p]And, notwithstanding all this loss of
blood,
[p]As from a conduit with three issuing spouts,
[p]Yet do thy
cheeks look red as Titan's face
[p]Blushing to be encountered with a
cloud.
[p]Shall I speak for thee? shall I say 'tis so?
[p]O, that I
knew thy heart; and knew the beast,
[p]That I might rail at him, to
ease my mind!
[p]Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
[p]Doth burn
the heart to cinders where it is.
[p]Fair Philomela, she but lost her
tongue,
[p]And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind:
[p]But, lovely
niece, that mean is cut from thee;
[p]A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast
thou met,
[p]And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
[p]That could
have better sew'd than Philomel.
[p]O, had the monster seen those lily
hands
[p]Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute,
[p]And make the
silken strings delight to kiss them,
[p]He would not then have touch'd
them for his life!
[p]Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony
[p]Which
that sweet tongue hath made,
[p]He would have dropp'd his knife, and
fell asleep
[p]As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.
[p]Come, let
us go, and make thy father blind;
[p]For such a sight will blind a
father's eye:
[p]One hour's storm will drown the fragrant
meads;
[p]What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes?
[p]Do not
draw back, for we will mourn with thee
[p]O, could our mourning ease
thy misery!
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Next: Act 3 - Scene 1
